


Psycho Killer

by le_chat_vilain



Series: The Joker and the Thief [30]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Guns, Knives, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_chat_vilain/pseuds/le_chat_vilain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaire goes to take care of some unfinished business at Arkham Asylum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psycho Killer

**Author's Note:**

> [TW: violence, guns] Ahhh, yes, she does have a penchant for vengeance our Blaire, not to mention she just has to know why everything happens and works. Time for her and Jeremiah to have a little chat. This one’s a little bit lighter than the last few chapters because I figure I should let you all come up for air before we dive deep again into the angsty waters!
> 
> Musical inspiration is Psycho Killer by Talking Heads.

It’s a brisk Wednesday morning when I make my way out to Arkham Asylum. I’ve got my hair pinned up under a long black wig, my brown contact lenses in, and a pair of coke-bottle specs on to complete the disguise. I look ridiculous, like a tragic mid-2000s throwback in lumpy polyester and corduroy, without a threatening bone in her body and who’ll probably die a virgin and not by choice. Today I’m not Blaire Hawkins, today I am budding journalist Georgie Peck, here to get Jeremiah Arkham’s side of the story regarding his incarceration, and tell it to the world.

Yeah fucking right.

I walk through those big double doors and over to the guard at the front desk.

“Hi, my name’s Georgie Peck, from The Gotham Globe? I…I..uh, I got an appointment to see Dr. Arkham? At 9am?” I stutter in my best southern drawl, sounding sweet as anxious pie; butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth right now. “I called last week, and I-”

“Yes, Miss Peck, here, fill out these forms and I’ll get your visitor pass ready,” the gruff, Rosie O’Donnell doppelganger instructs me, cutting me off abruptly and shoving the paperwork in my face. I sign myself in and sign the waiver, and hand the forms back with a meek smile. “Here, make sure you’re wearing it at all times. Hobbs here will escort you to the interview room.”

She nods her head at a weedy little man who I’m frankly surprised is able to stand without the amount of crap strapped to his belt bringing him to his knees. I clutch my clipboard and notepad to my chest to convey insecurity and follow him down a corridor to the left.

The security at this place really is appalling, nobody even makes me walk through the metal detector. I could have a fucking bomb on me right now and they wouldn’t be any the wiser. I do technically have a bomb on me right now and they are none the wiser! Either this is standard fare and why people keep constantly escaping, or I really do just look that fucking pathetic. Whatever, I’m not complaining.

“Here you go, miss,” Hobbs unlocks the door for me and gestures in before going to follow me. I can’t have that.

“Oh, uh, I…I was hopin’ to talk to him one on one, you know? It’s just…well, he might not be so open if one of y’all are lurkin’ around?” I suggest, batting my eyelashes and giving him the ultimate puppy dog eyes. “I mean, he’s cuffed right? And you’ll be right out here, so what’s the harm in it, really?”

I can tell this guy is so not used to interacting with women, and even in my current ugged up form, I’m still a pretty one if I do say so myself. He’s completely flustered, and one little touch on the arm and another heart felt plea from my lips and he’s done for.

“C’mon, sugar, five minutes at least?”

“Uhhhh…sure…yeah, I’ll be right out here if you need me, miss,” he stammers.

“Thank you, thank you so much! Bless your heart! And please, call me Georgie,” I stretch up and plant a kiss on his cheek to seal the deal, and he closes and locks the door behind him.

Now for the fun part.

I turn around to face him and it’s perfect, he literally doesn’t recognize me.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Jeremiah snaps, clearly angry than he can’t sit back in his chair because they’ve cuffed him so tight to the table.

“Well, that depends…on who you ask these days, really,” I casually inform him, dropping the accent and losing the glasses. I can practically see him trying not to piss himself. “To some people, I’m just Blaire, to others, I’m now Lady Joker, but to you? To you, Jeremiah, I’m the reaper, and I’ve come to collect your skid mark of a soul, and return it to its rightful place as lube in Satan’s fleshlight.”

A sick smile starts to spread across his face and it takes me by surprise.

“So, the rumours are true then,” he sneers. “Lover boy’s finally kicked the bucket.”

He starts to laugh. That fucking cunt, he knew this was going to happen. The whole time he knew something we didn’t, this was all designed. A cruel trick to lull us into a false sense of security and then pull the rug out from underneath us and bring it all crashing down. If I didn’t hate him so much I’d be impressed.

“Yes. Jay’s gone. Unfortunately for you, I’m still here. But you made damn sure of that, didn’t you?” I ask him, and he just grins back at me. “Tell me how, and I’ll consider letting you live. In fact, I’ll make sure of it, and I’ll get you out of here.”

He raises his eyebrows at me in disbelief, but I can see the cogs turning. I can see he’s considering it.

“Come on, cousin, I’m a lot of things, but you know I’m no liar. That’s my one redeeming feature, isn’t that what you always told me?” I persuade him. It’s true, I’m not one for lying, not in situations like these. Sure, pulling a job is one thing, and I’m not above a little trickery here and there, but I’ve never lied to this man. Until now. “Look at me, Jeremiah, I’m not exactly armed enough to take your head off, and the only trace of compound X left is in the chamber of this gun, a very loud gun which I’m none too keen to discharge in here.”

I brandish the old revolver at him before tucking it back in the waistband of my skirt, and looking him dead in the eye.

“You let me live, indefinitely.” He bargains. “You let me live, you get me out, and we go our separate ways. Deal?”

“Deal.” I lie. Fuck you, mate, like I’m ever going to let you walk for what you’ve done to him. To me. You took everything from me, and there’s no way that sin is going unpunished.

“Fine. The round I shot him with contained an earlier version of the serum. The precursor to the one you and I have in our veins. You see, that was my plan B. A foolproof, perfect, plan B just in case the shot itself didn’t do the job,” he explains with a satisfied smirk. “He was always going to die, my dear, you were just too stupid to see it.”

“So you and I, we’re dosed with the same version, a later version?”

“The latest. From the exact same batch, deary.”

“Good.”

I whip Jay’s Bowie knife from up my sleeve and drive it into the table, but not without putting it through his forearm on the way there. A swift jab to his throat muffles the screaming and I pull the X-round from my pocket and jam it into the gaping hole the knife leaves in his arm when I pull it back through.

“Oh, and by the way, when it comes to the guy who killed the love of my life? I’ll lie to the face of God him-fucking-self to get that vengeance, you piece of shit. My only regret – and this is the truth this time, I promise you that – is that I didn’t get to skin you alive every day until the end of all time just so you can feel a shred of the pain I do because of you. Consider yourself lucky I can’t stomach the sight of your cockstain of a face because that is the only thing that bought you this undeserved mercy,” I growl in his ear as I hold his arm still and watch the wound close.

I quickly wipe up the blood with the towel I’ve got stashed in my satchel, and as he starts to convulse I put the glasses back on, pick the accent back up, and race over to the door.

“Mister Hobbs! Mister Hobbs! Help! Somethin’s wrong with him! He’s havin’ a heart attack or somethin’! Help!” I scream, and Hobbs comes bursting back into the room just as the blood’s gurgling out of Jeremiah’s mouth and the life leaves him.

While Hobbs is caught up in the commotion, I use it as a chance to slip away, back down the hall and out to the reception area. I toss the visitor pass at Rosie O’Donnell Mark II, and make for the door.

“Miss, where are you going, you need to sign out!” she protests, and I pause. I pull off the wig, and toss the glasses aside, then look her in the eyes as I remove the contact lenses so my clear grey eyes are boring into hers.

“I don’t have to do shit, Rosie,” I tell her with a maniacal grin, and take my gun and plant one right between her eyes, followed by two quick ones in the chest, just for good measure. “You really should’ve made me walk through that metal detector.”

What? I just really wanted to shoot someone. And you know what? I feel so much better for it. For now.


End file.
